Longevity: Why Lori and I Came and Stayed

On the Occasion of a Significant Funeral

The average tenure for a pastor in the United States is 5 to 7 years. Half of pastors won’t last five years in a church. One study revealed that 70% of pastors constantly fight depression and 50% want to leave the ministry. Sadly, it often takes about five years of hard work and trust-building before a pastor starts to see some lasting fruit from his labor and that’s about the time many pastors leave.

Countless studies have searched for answers, but no single explanation fits every church’s experience. Sometimes, it’s due to the shortcomings of the pastor. Maybe he brought some unrealistic expectations to the church or simply fell for the allure of “greener grass,” hopping from church to church hoping to advance his career or gain a little evangelical fame. But sometimes, it’s due to the shortcomings of the congregation who had some unrealistic expectations of their own. If their pastor doesn’t perform, it’s time to trade him in.

As I close in on my thirty-third year as the Senior Pastor of First Bible Church, Lori and I are filled with gratitude to God for giving us the opportunity to serve one church family for so long. Not too many pastors can say (like I can) that they remember when some of their Deacons were in kindergarten, or when one of our pastors was a Cubbie in AWANA, or when they officiated the weddings of numerous elders and deacons. And Lori and I know that our long tenure is due to God’s grace poured out on us through a special group of people who has loved us so well.

My First Pastorate

In December of 1991, I accepted the invitation of John Cook, Sr. to visit First Bible Church as a candidate for Senior Pastor. The church had gone through some trying times and had been searching for a pastor for eighteen months. For various reasons, many members had left the church and all that remained was a group of eighty beleaguered believers. I had just graduated from Dallas Theological Seminary and was happily serving as an Associate Pastor in a large church in Fort Worth.

To be honest, I had never heard of Decatur, Alabama before John Cook’s phone call that day but my thesis advisor at DTS, Dr. John Hannah, encouraged me to make the trip and be open to whatever the Lord had for me. It was on that visit that I met the Elders of First Bible Church and their wives. That group included John and Jo Cook, Wayne and Kitty Gute, Bill and Inez Prince, and Marshall and Carolyn Williams. They asked a lot of questions, gave me tours of Decatur, and introduced me to the church family. I call them the Great Eight.

In short, the interviews went well, and the church voted to extend a call. But before that congregational meeting, John asked me if I would accept the position if they offered it to me. Because the church was in such a fragile state, he didn’t want to put it through the process of voting only to be rejected again. By then Lori and I were confident that the Lord was leading us to Decatur, so I told John we’d come if they’d have us. The church unanimously voted to extend the call, and we gratefully accepted. It was one of the best decisions of our lives.

In March of 1992, Lori and I packed up our belongings in Fort Worth and moved to Decatur. Josh was 4, Joy was 2, and Lori and I were…younger.

\(Our family, Christmas 1990\)

The Great Eight

Along with the rest of that sweet little congregation, those four elders and their wives (The Great Eight) took us under their wings, becoming surrogate parents and grandparents to our little family. They were always encouraging and supportive as I learned on the job what it meant to be a pastor. This was my first pastorate and though I tried to project confidence, at times I really didn’t know what I was doing. I made a lot of phone calls to mentors in those days, my former pastors and professors, seeking their wise advice that came at critical moments in our church’s history. By God’s grace, we endured those trials together and the Lord guarded our unity, largely through the faithful leadership and commitment of those four couples.

Changing the Original Plan

I didn’t intend to stay in North Alabama. My original plan was to stay here between 3-5 years, learn how to be a pastor, and then move back to the Carolinas near our families where Lori and I had met and married. But after three years here, we loved our church family so much, we didn’t want to leave. I told Lori then that I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing their funerals. We sensed then that if the Lord would have it, this would be my first and last pastorate.

The Significance of a Funeral

Last Thursday, I preached the funeral of Carolyn Williams. It turned out to be more emotionally difficult for me than I thought it would be. Carolyn was born in 1934 a mile from where the Decatur Campus of First Bible Church stands now. In her 90 years, she lived through many events that children now read about in history books. In 1934, the Governor of Alabama was a member of the KKK, Highway 67 (Beltline) was a gravel road, and the Great Depression still had five years to inflict its pain on our nation. She lived through WWII, the Korean War, the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the Civil Rights Movement, the Vietnam War, Watergate, the energy crisis, and 9/11. Somewhere along the way the Lord brought her to himself and then he brought Carolyn and Marshall to First Bible Church.

\(Carolyn Williams, March 25, 1934–December 21, 2024\)

As I said at her funeral, I tell young men who want to be pastors that they’ll need a sharp mind, a soft heart, and tough skin. A sharp mind because they will be the church family’s teacher, a soft heart because you will be their shepherd, and tough skin because you will be the target of their criticism. That’s not a complaint. Criticism just comes with the territory if you are a leader. Ask any football coach or doctor or business owner. But I also tell young pastors that I hope they have a few Carolyn Williamses in their church. Carolyn wasn’t a complainer or a critic. She encouraged and defended me for three decades. When we buried her body last Thursday, we buried the last of the Great Eight.

My Last Pastorate

Lori and I are unspeakably grateful to the Lord, not only for the Great Eight, but for all those faithful church members who were here when we came in 1992. Someday, I’ll tell you more about this ever-dwindling crowd. Many of them have transferred their membership to the church triumphant, but a few remain with us. Newer members of First Bible Church have no idea how much they owe to these solid saints whom the Lord used to build our church in those early and often difficult years.

The Great Eight aren’t here anymore, but we haven’t lost them. We know exactly where they are, which is exactly where all of us who are in Christ will be someday. I still grieve their absence, but not without hope. As we confess in the Apostles’ Creed: “I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting. Amen!”

Indeed. Amen!

And as far as I know, if the Lord is willing, First Bible Church is still the first and last church I will pastor.